


Potions

by ChristyCorr



Series: Magic [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Hogwarts, Marauders' Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-14
Updated: 2007-07-14
Packaged: 2019-01-19 01:32:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12400356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChristyCorr/pseuds/ChristyCorr
Summary: Lily reaches for the Cloak and relishes in the memories it evokes, some of which don't even belong to her: sneaking into the Hogwarts kitchens, the Forbidden Forest, the boys' dorm, St. Mungo's, the Ministry of Magic... It smells of freedom, and happiness.





	Potions

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. 
> 
> **Author's note:** "Amortentia" is a love potion that smells like whatever attracts the potion-maker the most. Special thanks to Sarah, who beta-ed this, and to Angel, whose 'Whisper In My Ear' format I did not intentionally plagiarise... but this ended up sounding a bit like that anyway. Oh, and to Patrick Suskind, who wrote _The Perfume_ , a book I seem to remember even though I haven't read it in years.

**Stench**

He smells like crap.

It is the first thing Lily notices about the messy-haired, loud boy sitting in front of her during the Sorting Feast. He's laughing along with his friends, with the ease of a pure-blood among his equals. She's been told that bloodlines matter in the wizarding community, and she can't help agreeing; children who grew up surrounded by magic are far less terrified than Muggle-borns like her.

His arms are dirty. He is certainly responsible for the dungbombs that exploded halfway through the journey to Hogwarts. He's informed Professor McGonagall that the event happened before term began, and that she could not, therefore, dock points from him.

"Mr. Potter," McGonagall says wearily, "I fear Gryffindor House will lose enough points because of you over the course of the school year."

Lily can't help agreeing with the professor. The boy surely reeks of trouble.

**Vapour**

There's something wrong.

In her first Potions lesson, the potion to cure boils somehow doesn't smell right, even though it is textbook-perfect. She goes to the storage cupboard and sniffs the air, searching for the missing ingredient. A few droplets of essence of Murtlap do the trick, and Slughorn praises her creativity.

Lily learns quickly. Every class, she closes her eyes and inhales the potion vapours; she then instinctively knows what to do and what ingredients should be added. Her sense of smell has always been reliable, and the subject quickly becomes her favourite. She is knowledge-hungry, and seeks to learn how to improve her potion-making.

Slughorn calls her a natural, and nearly worships her talent. She doesn't quite know how to deal with that. How could she, a Muggle-born, excel so effortlessly in a subject that even Potter and Black don't master with ease?

Lily sees her classmates struggle with the order of ingredients, or the amount of times each potion needs stirring; it makes little sense to her. Potion-making is both logical and instinctive, and the credit she receives seems undeserving.

Perhaps Professor Slughorn is right to call her a natural.

**Odour**

His scent is familiar.

The first time Lily is paired with Snape, she feels comfortable. His odour is much like her own, a mixture of Flobberworms, asphodel, Bubotuber pus, moondew and shrivelfig. He, too, loves to create and innovate.

They work in silence, each adding a particular new ingredient to an otherwise simple Forgetfulness Potion. She dares to make a slight friendly gesture and praises his idea of adding essence of rue. He insults her in a whisper and looks down on her potion-making technique, calling her an amateur.

The vicious offence affects her more than if he'd yelled "Mudblood!" before the entire school. Why does Snape begrudge her? He, of all people, should understand her love for Potions! She pulls her Jobberknoll feathers to herself and burns them meticulously, avoiding to meet her partner's eyes. 

Lily knows she is good, no matter what Snape says; perhaps she chops her roots the wrong way, but brewing potions is an activity that she has learned to face with almost religious zeal. Why did he treat her with spite, and not offer to teach her the correct way? Why wasn't he _nice_ —or at least non-confrontational?

She adds the burnt feathers to the cauldron with care. The potions turns clear blue, as it is meant to, and she glowers at Snape. All of a sudden, the stench of his greasy hair and obscure experiments reaches Lily's nostrils. 

She is befuddled, and slightly intimidated, by this strange Slytherin outcast.

**Sniff**

Petunia hates her.

Frogspawn, mysterious liquids, Hogwarts and magic have become a part of Lily. Petunia—French perfume, expensive cuisine, boring, ordinary, now unfamiliar—loathes it. 

Perhaps the unknowable quality of Lily's current life inspires fear in her sister, similar to the way Snape's infamous dealings with the Dark Arts frighten Lily. The idea is disturbing. She wishes there could be a way to show Petunia that there is no glory in being extraordinary; one year at Hogwarts had taught her as much.

Lily feels absurdly distant from her sister, as though they are no longer in the same family. Mum and Dad are obviously proud of their little girl, but they, too, can no longer understand her completely. Lily struggles with the urge of isolating herself from her family; she attempts to share details about her school life with her parents, but they cannot grasp even the basics of wizarding life.

Eventually, Lily gives up, but she doesn't feel lonely. She focuses instead on library books that she borrowed to study during summer.

She reads about the Draught of Peace, and itches to try brewing it.

**Stink**

The potion gives off a fetid stench of dragon excrement.

Lily regrets having volunteered to help Sprout tend to the plants in Greenhouse Three, and blames her Prefect badge for such an unnaturally helpful impulse. This is a messy, earthy business; a Venomous Tentacula has just stolen away her hat. She can hardly wait to leave the greenhouse and return to Gryffindor Tower.

She moodily adds a dash of hellebore to the potion, and the scent improves slightly. Potter rushes in and asks her out—for the tenth time this week. He always gets more persistent when a Hogsmeade weekend approaches.

Lily says no, of course, and sprinkles some of the potion on him. He runs away clutching his nose, now covered in rancid boils.

**Fragrance**

James Potter won't leave her alone.

The aroma of bouquets piling on her nightstand won't let her sleep. His courtship annoys her. _He_ annoys her. How could he possibly hope that she would one day give in to his persistent attempts? 

He is nothing more than a shallow, arrogant bully with far too much disregard for others. The Marauders' pranks, though sometimes funny, are inconsiderate and crude.

Lily's friends insist that she give him a chance, but she will hear none of it.

After all, he _still_ smells like crap.

**Redolence**

In time, Lily realises that he has other scents, too.

There's a strong stink of sweat about him after a Quidditch game, a spicy tang after he sneaks off to the kitchens every night, a musk of his aftershave potion, a perfume of the exasperating girls who follow him so often...

The Gryffindor common room has the smell of James Potter, too. It's so distinct—so, so _him_ —that sitting on his favourite armchair almost makes her dizzy.

When Slughorn asks his sixth-year class to brew Amortentia, she has no trouble identifying the scent of its vapours.

**Trail**

She will never forget the smell of that hospital room.

Mum exhales for the last time. The heart rate monitor flatlines, and the drying flowers in the room suddenly stink of funeral and death. Dad, unshaven, dishevelled, and defeated, will never be the same again. Lily feels herself change ever so slightly. She is motherless, and the burden of adulthood and responsibility suddenly seems overwhelming.

Her senses drink in the misery of the entire family, the sadness surrounding her. For many years, she has not felt like a part of this family, and even more so now: their grief seems foreign. She feels suffocated, perhaps, and her head swims; she cannot fully grasp what has just happened. 

She, the one member of the family who has seen the most otherworldly phenomena, is the last to shed a tear at the funeral. Shortly afterwards, Lily gives up her plans to become an Auror and studies to be a Healer.

She will never again set foot in a Muggle hospital.

**Aroma**

It is a beautiful wedding.

Lily chose the flowers and the wine with extreme care. James handled the guest list and the food. Most of their acquaintances are there—members of the Order of the Phoenix hardly ever have time to make new friends—and the only startling absence is Remus, who has not recovered well from the last full moon.

The preparations were exhausting, and Lily feels little other than relief when she sees that everything worked out fine. She spent half of the ceremony glancing at the unstable wedding cake, wondering if it would topple over; James placed a hand on her shoulder and told her to stop worrying. She obeyed—does she ever fail to do whatever he asks of her?—and is now enjoying herself.

Petunia and her husband Vernon are the only Muggles present. She leaves early, and from that point on the Marauders put on a delightful show of Dr. Filibuster's Fireworks. James, clearly exhilarated and drunk, wraps his arm around Lily's waist and she leans against him. For a brief moment, she feels safe, and is perfectly content to forget about everything else.

The best man interrupts them. He squeezes between Lily and James, hugs them both, and Peter takes a photograph.

Sirius reeks of alcohol, piss, dog, and grass—he has probably been patrolling the yard in his Animagus form— and Lily smiles: she would trust him with her life.

**Scent**

She loathes James.

Right then, she is more certain of it than she has ever been. Lily doesn't understand what brought her to this point. What madness had driven her to _listen_ to him? The idea had been foolhardy, irrational— _so painful_.

The stench of blood makes her stomach lurch. Childbirth is horribly terrifying; James, too, looks nauseated. He is sweaty and trembling. Lily grasps his forearm with all her strength, and he grimaces. She screams with frustration and powerlessness as the Healer instructs her to push once more.

The cry of her newborn reaches Lily's ears a moment later. Her eyes moisten as she holds him for the first time, and the smell of gore, blood, and Harry is inexplicably sweet.

**Trace**

They must go into hiding.

Dumbledore gives them last-minute instructions. They make plans, in case something goes wrong: their inheritance is to be split between the surviving Marauders; Albus will inform Petunia of her sister's death.

As planned, James has brought the Invisibility Cloak, to be stored with Dumbledore for safekeeping. Before he parts with it, Lily reaches for the Cloak and relishes in the memories it evokes, some of which don't even belong to her: sneaking into the Hogwarts kitchens, the Forbidden Forest, the boys' dorm, St. Mungo's, the Ministry of Magic... It smells of freedom, and happiness.

She hands it to Albus, and her lower lip quivers. A last-minute spur of doubt causes her to question Dumbledore's belief that Remus is the traitor among them. But if not him—who? Surely not Sirius or Peter, whose loyalty and closeness to the Potters have always been unquestionable. There is no one else.

Lily reasons with herself that they will most probably die somehow. Despite the best protection that Dumbledore can offer them—the Fidelius Charm— everybody knows that Lord Voldemort has never failed to get to a victim he's chosen. _They will die_. It is a daunting idea; the fatality of it is unfamiliar to Lily, who has always been fond of finding loopholes and ways to improve any given situation.

She, who has never believed in Divination, is now forced to go into hiding because that raving lunatic believed a prophecy of Trelawney's. She and James will die simply because of that. It's—unbelievable, ridiculous to think that, after their long careers in the Order, they will go down because of a silly Seer.

Lily glances at James' anxious face, and she is absolutely certain that she cannot survive without him—or Harry. She loves them both far too much. In a way, it is befitting that they should all die as a family. Life without either Potter could never qualify as such. How will the Marauders take it when they're gone? Is Remus really the traitor? How could he have done that?

How would Sirius live without his best mate? How would Peter survive without James and Lily, his two closest friends?

Dumbledore's eyes betray his immense sadness. He apologises, as if any of this is his fault. Lily makes Dumbledore promise that Peter will inherit the Cloak in case the family is murdered. Poor Peter. He, who depended on James most of all, would possibly suffer the most from the Potters' death.

Lily and James both hug Albus for the first time in their lives, and leave Hogwarts to place their lives in Peter's hands.

Sirius is right: Peter will never let them down.


End file.
